The Embrace of Madness
by The Author N
Summary: Being abused growing up, Harry was truthfully fearing for his life, and when his uncle began to whip him harshly and beat him one day, he nearly gave up hope. He wanted for someone, anyone, to come. When his prayer is answered, he finds himself starting to teeter and wonder...if he should give in to the madness. Rated M for Death
1. Prologue: Art Thou My Master

**The Embrace of Madness**

 **Summary: Being abused growing up, Harry was truthfully fearing for his life, and when his uncle began to whip him harshly and beat him one day, he nearly gave up hope. He wanted for someone, anyone, to come. When his prayer is answered, he finds himself starting to teeter and wonder...if he should give in to the madness.**

* * *

 **Prologue: Art Thou My Master?**

Six year old Harry James Potter was shaking in fear as he lay curled up in his small room, the only place in the entire house of number Four Privet Drive he could get his privacy. The place called 'The Cupboard under the Stairs.' The conditions of the Cupboard were filthy, and Harry was forced to clean them if he wanted the place liveable. The blankets were often dusty after a day or two, and the light bulb swung back and forth slowly every time someone walked down the stairs.

Why was he shaking in fear one might ask? That would be because of the people Harry did not affectionately refer to as his relatives. More specifically, because of his Uncle.

The day had started off normal enough. Harry had woken up at seven o'clock, and quickly made himself presentable before he hurried out of his small cupboard, and began to cook breakfast for everyone, using a small step ladder to help him reach the stove so he could do so. It didn't matter if he burned himself or got hurt, he was not to whine or complain even a little bit, or he would be punished. And if there was one thing Harry didn't want to happen to him, he didn't want to get punished. He never knew just how he would be punished. If he were lucky, he would go the rest of the day without eating. If he were unlucky, then his uncle would resort to physical violence, and that was something Harry dreaded even the thought of.

And so, the boy cooked quietly. And half an hour later when everything was readily cooked, everyone came downstairs to eat. His uncle, Vernon, sat at the table first, along with Petunia. Dudley came downstairs not long after, and the look in his eyes just told Harry that it was once again going to be rubbed in his face how much better a life Dudley had than him.

Once everyone was downstairs, Harry was quick to set all the food on the table, and then hurried back to the stove to cook more. He absent-mindedly listened to the conversation his uncle was having with his aunt, but for the most part he did his best to not eavesdrop. He'd gotten in trouble for lesser things, and nearly shuddered at the thought of what would happen if he was found to be eavesdropping on conversations that he had no business listening to.

"Boy!" Vernon called, and Harry quickly looked at him, not wasting a single second, though he kept an eye on the cooking food. "We are going out today, and nobody else is able to deal with you since they are all busy. You will stay in the house and do your chores. You will _not_ do anything bad, otherwise you will be severely punished. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said softly, quickly grabbing the now cooked bacon and walking over, putting more Bacon onto the plates of the three, before he headed back to the stove and began to turn everything off as he spotted the time. When going out, the family had always left at half past eight sharp, and it was currently three minutes before then, so there was no longer a point in Harry cooking any more.

He quietly walked to the table, where his list of chores were waiting, as the Dursley's began to rise and leave the house, locking the front door behind them. Of course, they left the back door unlocked as Harry did have to do the gardening, but they knew he wouldn't leave the house without their say so. He was too afraid to do so, something both Harry and the Dursley's knew very well. And yet, there was nothing Harry could do about it.

The orphaned boy sighed light to himself, before he began to read off what chores he had today. He had to weed the garden, clean the living room, and a few other things. Truthfully, these were far more reasonable than the usual tasks he was given. Usually he had to do some very difficult things that were guaranteed to get him punish, like clear Dudley's second room of some of his broken toys by putting them into the attic. Sadly, he _couldn't_ reach the attic, he was too small. The step ladder did nothing to help either. And the actual ladder? It was in the garden shed, and he wasn't allowed in there. So of course, he'd get beaten for not being able to fulfil the task he was given. And if he did fulfill the task, he would be beaten harshly for going somewhere he wasn't supposed to go.

And so, Harry began his chores. He weeded the garden. He cleaned the living room. He took out the trash. He cleaned the kitchen. He washed up their clothes. He washed the bed sheets. He hung them all out to dry. And then once- and only once- his chores were all done, he checked on the time.

Noting that was nearly half past five, he quickly set about cooking dinner. The Dursley's would likely return at ten minutes to six o'clock sharp, and would expect dinner to be completely ready to serve by the time the clock hit the hour. He started half an hour before then to make sure he had sufficient time to cook the meal.

However, it was only once the meal was finished, that things started to turn to something bad.

At some point, while Harry hadn't being paying attention, Petunia had busted out some wine. Normally this wouldn't be an issue, but it was a very strong wine, and Vernon Dursley was a lightweight. It didn't take much to get him drunk. And with the strength of the wine his wife gave him, he was gone after a single glass.

That was when the beating began. Out of the blue, Harry found himself grabbed and bent over the couch. He stuttered, asking what he'd done wrong. He didn't receive an answer as Vernon took out the belt, tore off Harry's shirt, and began to whip him, roaring about how 'he should be grateful he was wasting his time on a freak like him.'

Harry could only cry and beg for it to stop, but it didn't. Why? Why didn't it stop? He'd done all his chores, cooked dinner, and even stayed out of the way and their view, since he knew they didn't enjoy seeing him at all. So why? Why was he being beaten like this?

He didn't receive an answer as the whip slapped on his back one final time, before Vernon finally stopped. Harry fell to the ground and curled up in the fetal position, sobbing quietly into his knees. He wasn't even allowed to do that, as he found himself grabbed by the neck, getting roughly thrown into his cupboard, and told he wouldn't be receiving any dinner.

He heard a few clicks, indicating the door had been locked from the outside, and that he was once again trapped in the prison of the cupboard…or now, the sanctuary of it.

Harry cried and sobbed into his knees, shaking in fear for what was to possibly come to him next. Had he not suffered enough at their hands? Had he not given everything he had, even though they were the vilest of people? Hadn't he earned something good for once in his life?

It was then that Harry felt a familiar emotion, and a pulse ran throughout the house. The pulse was unseen, unfelt, and unknown by all the residents of the place. The only thing Harry knew, was that one emotion ruled him. One emotion was filling his entire being.

 _Rage._

That was right. Why should he suffer? Why should he need to suffer thanks to his 'family!?' He didn't deserve this! He deserved better, to be treated better! To be acknowledged as someone who wasn't worthless, who wasn't called a freak!

 _Another pulse ran through the house, once again going unnoticed._

He deserved better! He deserved a proper family! He wanted them to suffer for doing this to him! For rejecting him! He wanted them…them all to die!

"If anybody out there can hear me," he whispered, voice hoarse from crying. "Then please come…and kill those bastards for what they've done to me!"

 _The third pulse came…and with it, Harry's hope._

Light filled the cupboard under the stairs, shining brightly, as if it were the light of god itself. Abruptly, the door was blasted off its hinges, causing Harry and the three Dursley's to yell in surprise as the light just grew brighter, and brighter.

The light faded, and a figure now stood in place just outside of the cupboard. Their physical features couldn't be seen, as the entirety of their body was clad in black armour, with crimson lines running along it and an odd symbol of sorts residing on their chest. At their waist was two sheaths, one for either of the figure's two swords.

"I have come from across time and space to answer your calling," the figure spoke, their head turning to Harry. "I am Servant Berserker. And I ask of you, art thou my Master?"

"You!" Vernon roared out, his face turning red as he glared at Harry from the dining room. Said young boy was curled up still and shaking in fear of what was about to happen to him. "You did this, you little freak! I'm going to make you wish you were never born!" Vernon got up and began to rush towards the Cupboard…

…only for his head to fly off his body and land in Petunia's plate.

It happened so fast that nobody reacted for a few seconds. One moment, Vernon was rushing to the cupboard. The next, the warrior was holding their sword, and Vernon's next was soaring across the room before it landed in Petunia's plate.

Even Vernon's body seemed to need a moment to catch up with what happened. It continued to run, now headless, for a second…before it fell to the ground, completely immobile as blood poured from the head wound.

There was silence…before Petunia and Dudley screamed out in fear as the events of what just happened caught up with them.

"So noisy…" the knight drawled out, beginning to march towards the mother and child, who grasped in each and began to shake in fear as the knight approached. "Just die," they said coldly, swinging their sword and decapitating both Petunia and Dudley Dursley. Unlike Vernon's head, their own fell to the ground in a thumb, bodies slumping as blood spurted out…never to move again.

Harry slowly looked up; he was partially in shock and disbelief, and partially in joy. Part of him though this must have just been a wonderful dream, where his wish finally came true. But he knew it wasn't a dream. He didn't hurt so much in his dream, and he could still feel the pain on his back from when Vernon whipped him.

The knight slowly turned back towards him, and Harry finally got a good look at their sword. It was a weapon more dazzling than any silver, sparkling and adorned with splendid decorations. It was the kind of sword a Ruler might wield, to show proof of their Kingship.

He was snapped out of his thoughts as the knight marched over and crouched down. Even though he couldn't see the knight's eyes, he could feel them staring straight into his own. "With all the interruptions out of the way, I ask you once again. Art thou my Master?"

"Y…yes…" Harry croaked out. He didn't know why, but for some reason…he just knew. He knew it in his heart and soul, he was this knight's master.

"…And so, you are," the knight agreed. Their helmet made an odd creaking sound, before it split, and began to break into smaller pieces that became part of the knight's armour. And so, Harry got his first look at the face of the Knight.

 _Beautiful._

That was the only word he could think of to describe her. She had blonde hair with braids running along either side that merged into her pony tail. Her skin was beautifully pale, as if she never saw the sun, hidden by her armour. And her eyes were a smouldering, gorgeous gold.

Her face suddenly broke into a grin, showing her teeth were a bit sharper than a normal person's. "What's your name, master?"

"H-Harry…Potter…n-nice to meet you…" his voice was barely above a whisper.

"I am Mordred Pendragon, King of Camelot. It's nice to meet you too, Master."

It was on that day, fate was forever changed. All thanks to one small thing that anyone else would see as insignificant:

Harry Potter had his first friend.


	2. Chapter 1: O' King of Magic

**Chapter 1: O' King of Magic**

 _Mr. H. Potter_

 _The Bedroom Overlooking the Smithy's Shop_

 _Ruins of Camelot_

As Harry stared at the letter in his hands, he couldn't help but question a few things. Namely how on Earth a letter had gotten to a place that nobody could go to unless they knew where it was.

It had been nearly five years since Mordred had come to him and killed the Dursleys. Harry was ten now, and he was turning eleven in just a few short days.

After killing the Dursleys, Mordred had brought him to the one place she was certain they would be safe from everyone. The one place that nobody would ever find them unless they allowed themselves to be found.

She brought him to the Ruins of Camelot, the place where King Arthur had once resided after drawing the sword from the stone. In other words, Mordred brought him to a castle for the two of them to live.

From there, Mordred had gone onto explain a few things to Harry. That she was a heroic spirit from an alternate timeline, in which events may have played out differently. That she'd been summoned by him because the two were compatible since he hadn't used a 'catalyst' as she'd called it.

When she summed it all up by telling him that magic was real, Harry had pleaded with her to teach him. She agreed, citing that it was her job to make sure her master wasn't going to be killed if she wasn't around to make sure that he was safe. She seemed quite protective of him, and Harry assumed it was because if he died then she would vanish.

He continued to stare at the letter, hesitating, and wondering if he should open it. He finally decided to bring the letter to Mordred instead, perhaps she would know something about it?

With that in mind, he hurried to the Master Bedroom, not terribly far from his own since Mordred wanted to be able to reach him fast in case of an emergency and knocked on the door sharply three times.

"I keep telling you that you don't need to knock, Master!" Mordred's voice came from the room, making Harry blush in embarrassment. He knew that, but the last time he had, Mordred was in the middle of changing.

"Are you changing?" Harry squeaked out.

"Not this time, Master," Mordred drawled out.

"O-okay!" He yelped as he walked into the room, seeing Mordred lounging around in her bed while dressed in her armour. She tended to wear her armour all the time, she called it a force of habit.

"What do you need, Master?"

"I…somehow, a letter found me," he told her, offering Mordred the letter. While he was sure it wasn't cursed to hurt him, like Mordred said some could be, it didn't hurt to be safe.

Mordred's eyes narrowed as she looked the letter, looking over it carefully…she turned it around, and seemed surprised by the wax seal that was on the back. "The letter is safe, master," she said. "I don't even need structural analysis for it," she tossed it back to him. "Open it up and read it."

Harry slowly nodded, before he did just that, pulling out one of the pieces of paper that lay within and beginning to read.

 _Dear Mr. Potter,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

 _Deputy Headmistress_

"A school that teaches magic?" Harry asked a loud, fixing Mordred with a questioning look.

"Yes," Mordred nodded. "It was created during the latter years of my reign, though I had no interest in it myself, some of my people attended and word of it reached my ears. I only know basic information, but when you arrive, you are sorted into one of four houses; Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Sadly, that is all of my own knowledge on the subject."

"So…should I go?" Harry questioned, looking a little nervous. He would have liked to go and learn about magic. But Mordred was already teaching him what little magic she knew, like Reinforcement, Structural Analysis, and Mana Burst.

"I think it's a good opportunity for us to make links with the world again," Mordred agreed. "Though I shall be attending with you. If not as a student, then as your bodyguard."

"Is…that allowed?" he questioned.

Mordred just smirked at him. "If it wasn't before, it will be soon enough. I can promise you that."

 **-Line Break-**

It was on July 29th that Harry and Mordred set out into normal society to get some clothes. Mordred turned invisible, as was within her powers as a Servant, so that she wouldn't cause distress among the populace.

Harry walked into the first clothing store he found, and quietly suggested outfits to Mordred, and a few for himself. Eventually, they managed to gather everything they needed. Harry paid using money that they'd gotten from selling a little bit of Camelot's treasury.

And it was on July 30th, the day before Harry's birthday, that the two of them began to look for just where they'd be shopping for school supplies. They did this by walking around where Magic was strongest in England, that being London.

Mordred had dressed in what she'd decided was her new favourite outfit; A tube top that showed off her midriff, a pair of very short jean shorts that cut slightly down her thighs, a black jacket with fur trimming, and a pair of black boots. On her left index finger was a ring that bore the Pendragon coat of arms. All in all, she looked quite attractive.

Harry had chosen something simpler. Just a grey tshirt, a long-sleeved checker patterned one over it, and a pair of jeans. His hand clung tightly to Mordred's as they walked around town, his eyes naturally narrowing into a glare whenever he caught someone staring at his familiar.

Eventually, they ended up at a shop called 'The Leaky Cauldron.' Strangely, quite a few people seemed to glaze over looking at the shop without too much thought.

"…They aren't very discreet, are they?" Harry asked Mordred, but he was surprised when Mordred shook her head.

"No, they are," she disagreed. "They're using magic, like one Merlin used to turn people away when they got to close to Camelot. People's eyes just drift over it as if it doesn't exist, only those with magical abilities can see it. Quite clever, hiding in plain sight."

Harry hesitated before nodding, fiddling with his pony tail. His hair was quite long after five years of not getting it cut, meaning he had to tie it back like Mordred did. He was still left with a fringe, at his own choice. He didn't like people seeing the lightning bolt scar on his forehead, it always made him uncomfortable when they stared at it when he was a toddler.

Inside, were various men and women, all laughing, speaking, and having a good time, and using magic for such mundane things like mixing their coffee without touching their spoon. Harry found such casual use of magic…kind of insulting, especially since he'd been working so hard with Mordred to learn how to use magic at all.

"Welcome," the man at the bar said, causing both Harry and Mordred to look at him. "Name's Tom. How can I help you both?"

"Do you uh…know where we could get my school supplies?" Harry asked.

The man's eyes opened in understanding. "Ahh, muggle-born?" he asked, clearly not expecting an answer since he continued. "Yeah, the way is out back. Let me show you the way," he led the two to a door, letting them through as they found themselves in a very closed alleyway.

"Um…?" Harry questioned, noticing Mordred's body tensing out the corner of his eye. It was clear she was ready to strike at a moment's notice.

Tom didn't respond, instead pulling out his wand and tapping along the bricks. "Three up, two right, one down," he told them allowed as he tapped his wand in that pattern.

Slowly, impossibly, the bricks began to roll and give way to the world behind them, revealing a busy street and many shops, with a large building in Marble White standing high and proud above all the rest.

"This is Diagon Alley," Tom said, noticing Harry and Mordred's looks of awe. "Quite the busy place. For Muggleborns, I'd suggest heading to Gringotts first," he told them, pointing to the large building. "That's the bank. Best set up a bank account now, rather than later. Best of luck with your shopping," he told them as he turned and headed back inside.

"…Woah," Harry whispered, staying still as he and Mordred looked over the busy street. "This is…amazing."

"I didn't know wizards had such an advanced community…" the King of Camelot whispered. "I was a fool to not invest some time in them…" she grunted. "But the past is the past. To the bank now, Master?"

"Right," Harry nodded in agreement, holding onto Mordred's hand tightly as they made their way through the throngs of people and towards the bank.

It only took a few minutes to reach their destination, walking into the bank and marvelling at the sight. Countless Goblins lined the sides, doing one thing or another, while one Goblin sat at the head of the desk, doing his own pieces of paper. Though there was a sign that said, 'queue here.'

"Next," the Goblin drawled out as he spotted them, and they made their way to him. "How may Gringotts help you today?"

"We'd like to open up an account," Mordred spoke for Harry.

"Name?"

"Harry Potter," Harry spoke up, looking the Goblin in the eyes.

The Goblin froze, eyes widening as he looked at Harry, and then let his eyes drift to the boy's forehead, making Harry freeze as he realised the Goblin was looking for his covered-up scar. _Why?_

"Do you have any proof that you are indeed Harry James Potter, Heir of House Potter?" The Goblin asked.

"Proof?" Harry questioned, Mordred also looked terribly confused by the Goblin's words. "Heir of House Potter…? You must be mistaken sir," he insisted.

"An inheritance test is needed then," the Goblin decided, pulling out a piece of parchment, and a silver knife. "If you would Mr Potter, I require 11 drops of your blood. One for each year you have been alive."

"W-what?" Harry asked fearfully, looking at the knife. He could recall such a knife, how it ran across his flesh when Vernon…

"Why would I allow his blood to do so?" Mordred growled, golden eyes flaring.

The Goblin just sighed. "Calm yourselves, this is just to ascertain his identity. If you do this, I shall direct you to someone who can…explain things a bit better to you. I'm just doing my job. Any wound he inflicts to himself shall be healed once the Parchment reacts to his blood."

"…A single drop more," Mordred warned. "And I shall make sure for every drop spilled, an ocean is paid in your kinds blood."

"Is that so?" the goblin challenged.

"Mordred stop causing a scene!" Harry snapped at her, making her grumble, but she backed down.

He hesitated as he looked at the knife before gingerly picking it up and holding his hand over the parchment. He gently pricked his finger, and he began to let the blood fall. Exactly eleven drops of blood later, the wound closed, and writing began to appear on the parchment, which all three of them eagerly read.

 _Name: Harry James Potter_

 _Father: James Charlus Potter_

 _Mother: Lily Jasmine Potter nee Evans_

 _Titles_

 _Heir Apparent of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter_

 _Heir Presumptive of the Ancient and Noble House of Black_

 _Heir Apparent of the Revered House of Peverell_

 _Master of the Exalted House of Pendragon_

 _Conqueror of the Revered House of Slytherin_

 _Prince of Camelot_

Three pairs of eyes widened at the sight of what was written on the Parchment. Two eyes out of confusion and shock, while the third was out of pure disbelief.

The Goblin at the desk quickly called over another Goblin. "Take these two to Potter Account Manager Ripclaw, along with this," he handed the Parchment to the Goblin, who gave it a once over, before that Goblin's eyes also widened in shock.

"Come with me," the Goblin told both before he began to hurry away, leaving Mordred and Harry wondering just what the hell was going on.

 **-Line Break-**

"Account Manager Ripclaw will see you now," the Goblin told the two. Harry and Mordred had been forced to wait a further ten minutes as the Goblin headed in and spoke with the Account Manager and leaving the two of them still terribly confused as to just what was happening.

"About time," Mordred grumbled as she grabbed Harry's hand and tugged him inside the office, who allowed her to do as she pleased. When Mordred was grumpy, there was no getting through to her.

At the desk, was another Goblin, though he was dressed a bit more fashionably compared to the others, and his face was also a tad smoother. If Harry had to guess, he'd say this Goblin was a bit higher up on the food chain compared to the others.

"Please, take a seat," the Goblin- Ripclaw- told them both. "We have much to discuss."

Harry nodded before slowly taking a seat on one of the two chairs, Mordred sitting right next to him. "The two of us are terribly confused, could you explain what is going on?"

"That is why I am here," Ripclaw snarked. "You aren't just naïve of your heritage, but of the entire magical world, even your own fame. This will not do."

"My fame?"

"Let me explain, Mr Potter. Many years ago, the Wizarding World was in a state of Civil War thanks to a Dark Lord who was so terrible, so awful, that even the likes of Morgan Le Fay would be disgusted with him."

"I'd pay to see that," Morgan whispered to Harry, who just smirked softly.

"People were panicked, the world as we knew it was changing, and it seemed as if the Dark Lord was going to win…until October 31st ten years ago. The day the Dark Lord was vanquished…" Ripclaw raised one of his fingers and pointed at Harry. "By you, Mr Potter."

"W-what?" Harry yelped, clearly unable to believe that. Mordred's eyes were also wide in shock from this information. "B-but that can't be! I was one year old! How could I have…have killed someone so terrible?"

"A question that leaves us all wondering," Ripclaw agreed. "Nonetheless, the Dark Lord died that day. His attack on your house took the lives of your parents, and we had no clue of your location until just 10 minutes ago, when you walked into our bank. Which leaves us in a bit of a pickle Mr Potter…as to how on Earth Magic has decided that you are not only the Master of Pendragon, but also the Prince of Camelot!"

"That's…" Harry hesitated, and gave a discreet look to Mordred. The woman sighed in annoyance, before nodding. "Um…that would be because of my companion," he said, holding Mordred's hand tighter as Ripclaw's gaze fell on her. "She is my Familiar. Her name is Mordred Pendragon."

Ripclaw couldn't help it. His eyes widened in shock, and his eyes fell on Mordred's hand, and the ring that bore the Pendragon Coat of Arms. "Surely you cannot mean to say this is the same Mordred Pendragon that died at Camlann?"

"I am not," Mordred said coldly. "It is a long and complicated story, but I am both that Mordred, and yet not that Mordred. You can think of me as merely a fragment of her that lingered in the world, while she went onto the afterlife."

"A Horcrux?" Ripclaw snarled, eyes narrowing.

"What's a Horcrux?" Harry asked. "Mordred came to me in my moment of need. I…summoned her, you could say."

"More like exactly," Mordred said drily.

Ripclaw took a deep breath and tried to regain control of the conversation. "If we could perform an inheritance test, just to be sure?" He asked, offering parchment and a blade.

"Fine," the Pendragon sighed, pricking her finger and letting the blood fall onto the parchment. Soon enough, the wound healed, and text appeared.

 _Name: Mordred Pendragon_

 _Father: Arthur Pendragon_

 _Mother: Morgan Le Fay_

 _Titles_

 _Head of the Exalted House of Pendragon_

 _Servant Berserker_

 _King of Camelot_

"…You are both so difficult, aren't you?" Ripclaw sighed as he stared at the Parchment…before he gave a fanged grin. "I like the interesting clients. Well then, Heir Potter, Lady Pendragon…let's talk business."

 **-Line Break-**

It was an hour later that Mordred and Harry walked out of the bank, both carrying small wallets, and Harry a ring on both his index finger and his middle finger. The one on his index finger bore the potter coat of arms, while the one on his middle finger bore the Peverell coat of arms. They were heir rings, to signify and show that he was the heir to those two houses.

"That took way longer than it should have," Mordred told him, looking tired. "Let's just deal with that list and go back home, alright? Don't think I can handle anything else like that again today."

"I'm fine with that," Harry muttered, eager to head back home.

The two began shopping around the alley, deciding to get Harry a 'Master Book' that could store all the information from every other book he bought, and allow him to access them anywhere so long as he had the Master Book.

They also got a multi compartment trunk, so they'd have somewhere to escape if everything became too much while they were at the school. It was attuned to both of their blood, had had several wards that would…dissuade people from trying to get in.

Shopping for everything else went rather smoothly. They even bought Harry a nice snowy owl that took a liking to him. He named her Viviane, after the lady of the lake. It annoyed Mordred slightly, but she didn't hit him at least.

Their final stop was a place to buy a wand. Not Olivander's, though. They went to another Wand Maker, a shop hidden between two others. It was a recommendation from Ripclaw, claiming that Harry could use a wand that matched him fully…whatever that meant.

"This is the place," Mordred sighed as they looked at the seemingly withered gates. The name of the small store was faded, unable to be read, but this was the place Ripclaw had directed them to. "Morgan's right tit are we sure he wasn't playing a joke on us?"

"Let's just look inside?" Harry suggested as the two stepped into the building.

The first thing they noticed was that the interior did not match the outside. It was completely spotless, looking as if it had just been freshly cleaned earlier that day.

Very little was in the entrance room, save for a freshly polished, mahogany desk. A single bell sat on the desk, along with several pieces of parchment and some quills.

Harry hesitated, before he reached out and hit the bell.

"Just a moment!" a voice called from the back. Within a minute or so, the figure of the person stepped out from the door. He was a man garbed entirely in black, with a hood over his head so that his face couldn't be clearly seen. "Yes, yes, here for a wand, are you?"

"Yes," Harry nodded, looking somewhat weary of the man. Mordred's eyes narrowed upon him, though she took a breath and calmed herself. It wouldn't do to lose control of her emotions in this place.

"Hmm…no, no, a wand shall not do!" the man declared as he got a good look at Harry. "For someone such as you, a Staff is needed!"

"A-A staff?" Harry asked, sounding bewildered. "How will I carry that everywhere? And doesn't the first-year list say I need a wand?"

"Staves can be shrunk down and can be used as wands like that," the man waved it off. "You have the potential to be quite powerful, better to find you a staff now rather than later. Come, come!" he hurried into the back, leaving Mordred and Harry with no choice but to follow.

There were rows upon rows of various ingredients that were presumably for making wands. Hundreds of stacks of different kinds of woods, and opposite them were many kinds of hairs in bottles.

"Come along!" the man said eagerly, leading them towards the hoods. "Now then, young man, I want you to focus. Your staff is just waiting to be created! You will feel a pull to one of these woods, and that shall be the wood that shall make up the shell of your staff! Now then, focus!"

Harry gave Mordred a worried look. "Just do it, Master," she told him, patting his back. "Wouldn't do for someone of your stature to hesitate anymore," she smirked. "I'll make sure that your confidence is back up before you head to school."

"Jerk," Harry muttered, taking a breath as his eyes closed and he began to concentrate, to focus. Suddenly, he felt a tug. It was a light tug, not overwhelming, and it was…trying to lead him out of the shop?

He shook his head and focused again, ignoring that first tug and trying to determine which wood would be part of his staff. Slowly, the first tug faded, and a much stronger one took its place. He began to walk, eyes still closed, until he felt the source of it was right in front of him.

Slowly, his eyes opened to see one much smaller stack of wood sitting in front of him. It looked to be a plain brown, quite easy to overlook.

"Oh my," the man said, and Harry could feel the grin from under the hood. "So, the wood is Hazel? Quite interesting, I don't make many Hazel Wands or Staves, simply because it doesn't call out to anyone thanks to the inherently corrupt nature of people."

"What do you mean by that?" Mordred asked, eyes narrowed but showing a hint of curiosity.

"People are corrupt far too easily, Madam," the man said. "As such, they aren't attracted to Hazel. Hazel represents Creativity, Purity, and Honesty. Such traits are difficult to find in people nowadays, and thus Hazel wands are very, very rarely sold. The fact the boy was attracted to Hazel is a good sign, it means he is likely to grow up to be honest, and quite the creative young fellow. I suspect he'll be quite the Enchanter and Spell Maker as he grows.

"Now next is the core," he said, lifting a slab of Hazel wood and leading them over to the other side of the room. "Once again, focus and feel the core that calls out to you. It shall be what allows you to channel your magic through your Staff."

Harry took a breath, before his eyes closed again and he began to focus. Much faster this time, he felt a tug and began to follow it. Within moments, he stopped in front of his destined core, and his eyes opened. He stood in front of a bottle filled with silver hairs, and the man began to chuckle.

"Oh my," he spoke. "Unicorn hair. Now this is intriguing that you would be destined for a Staff that requires Unicorn hair of all things?"

"Why is that?" Mordred asked, starting to lose her patience with the man.

If the man was intimidated, his body language certainly didn't show it. "Unicorn Hair generally doesn't produce the strongest staff, though they are the least…how shall I say this? The least flamboyant, more stable. It will usually produce the most _consistent_ magic. Furthermore, this wand is the most faithful to its owner. It boasts loyalty on a level much higher than other wand cores…" he grinned. "I dare say, that says much about the young man here…

"Now both of you back to the front," he shooed them away. "I need to make the Staff in private, trade secret and all. Won't be ten minutes, now shoo," he quickly pushed them out of the back, closing and locking the door once they were back by the entrance.

"I'm going to kill him," Mordred muttered in frustration. "I never knew someone could be so damn annoying, and I knew Tristian and Agravaine. Tristan's stupid songs, Agravaine being so uptight all the time…ugh, just remembering it is giving me a headache!"

"Calm down," Harry told her, trying to calm her. Remembering most of her past always got Mordred frustrated, and he needed to distract her somehow. "Can you tell me the story from when you and Galahad pranked Lancelot?"

"You've heard that story a hundred times," Mordred muttered.

"I want to hear it again."

Mordred let out a slow sigh, before she smiled gently. "It all started shortly after Galahad arrived and revealed he was Lancelot's illegitimate son…"

Harry smiled as the more Mordred spoke, the more she calmed down. He could tell she'd been quite stressed all day, likely on his behalf. Mordred was protective of him, and he chalked it up to her own shitty relationship with her mother. She'd fret over him, because she didn't want him to end up like she did.

It was fifteen minutes later that the mysterious man stepped out from behind the door. "Sorry I took a while, but your staff is now done!" he declared as he pulled out the object from behind him.

Harry fell in love at first sight. The staff was taller than Harry himself by about seven inches, but it was beautifully designed. Swirls ran up the staff, delicately caressing along the wood as the swirls rose up, seeming to turn into flames, before those flames rose up and turned into clouds, which drifted into snowflakes near the top of the staff. The snowflakes merged back into swirls, that formed the Lion's Head that adorned the top of the staff. In the mouth of the Lion was a red orb that seemed to be a gem of some kind, while its eyes were emeralds. The eyes of the lion matched Harry's perfectly.

"Here," the man said, offering it to Harry. "It's all yours."

Mesmerised, Harry reached out and his fingers curled around the staff. A gust of wind ran around them, the lion's eyes glowing as the gem in its mouth grew brighter. A distinct roar could be heard, like that of a lion's.

"A perfect match," the man nodded in approval. "The staff shrinks when you let your magic flow through it and say 'shrink' and grows when you flow your magic and say 'grow.' Eventually, you'll be able to do this mentally and at a moment's notice. Furthermore, this staff does not have the Trace on it."

"The trace?" Harry asked. "What's the Trace?"

"It's what the Ministry of Magic uses to track kids who just got their wands," he explained. "Makes sure they don't use underaged magic. You get two strikes on your record after you get your wand, before they take action against you. Your staff doesn't have the trace, it interferes with the power of the staff. Plus, you seem responsible enough. I'm feeling generous, so the Staff is free. Now both of you out, I need to close up shop."

"Right," Harry bowed his head. "Thank you, sir," he said as he gripped Mordred's hand, telling his staff to shrink. It did so, becoming the size of a wand that he slipped into his pocket as he and Mordred made their way out of the wand store.

"Yes, Mister Potter…" the man murmured as he slowly lowered his hood…revealing a face so beautiful it could not be described by mere words, with a pair of eyes that were entirely gold, and a soft smirk upon their lips. When 'he' spoke, the male voice was now gone, replaced with that of a woman's. "After all, we can expect great things from you…I have already seen what it is you shall do, O' King of Magic…"

Unseen to everyone, even Harry and Mordred, the Pendragon coat of arms was engraved into the orb that rested in the lion's mouth.


End file.
